


The Man Who Has Everything

by Berty



Category: due South
Genre: Birthday, Canada, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berty/pseuds/Berty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser is celebrating a certain birthday and an unexpected visitor brings him the perfect gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Who Has Everything

The first indications that Ray had remembered his birthday were the chilli-pepper lights hung around the window.

His window.

Of his little house.

At the end of a long, rough, unmade track, about 3 kilometres out of Fort Murray, his posting since he'd returned from the States eighteen months ago.

Nowhere near the Chicago apartment of a certain detective of his acquaintance, which was the last place he'd seen such idiosyncratic illumination.

Yes, the lights gave it away. Well, the lights and the unknown red SUV parked outside in the snow.

When Fraser opened the door, Dief exploded out of his RCMP issue SUV, prancing and whimpering in his excitement.

So that confirmed it then. Chilli-pepper lights, red SUV and a shameless wolf who was as excited about the prospect of donuts as he was about seeing their friend so unexpectedly. He ran back and forth between the house and Fraser like a demented puppy, yelping and sending up puffs of snow.

Fraser climbed the couple of steps to his front door, already smiling in anticipation of Ray's, "Jeezus Fraser, it's cold up here."

The door burst open before Fraser could reach it and light and warmth spilled from the doorway along with the smell of cooking, and one hundred and eighty centimetres of not even slightly Italian detective.

"Fraser!"

And he was engulfed in a rib-cracking hug that smelled of coffee, hair gel and happiness.

When Ray had finished hugging (although Fraser could have stood much, much more of that), slapping his back and grinning, he finally said "Happy Birthday, buddy!"

"It's…" Fraser cleared his throat of the suspicious tight feeling that had gathered there. "It's good to see you, Ray."

"Surprised?"

"You could say that, yes," Fraser nodded, still smiling so widely it made his cheeks ache. "It seems like only yesterday that I waved you off."

"That was seven weeks ago, Frase. Miss me?"

Ray's smile was sly and he looked up at him from beneath lowered eyelashes making the back of Fraser's neck get hot under his parka. "Every day," he replied truthfully, but softened the impact of his words with a slap of his own to Ray's sweater-padded shoulder.

Ray's smile faltered for just a second before he recovered. He reached down to where Dief was dancing circles around his socked feet and gave the wolf a friendly scratch. "Hey, Furface. They're on the counter, but you can only have two. And leave the chocolate ones for Fraser. They're for dessert."

"Dessert?"

"Yeah. I cooked. C'mon in. Jeez, it's freezing up here."

Fraser didn't think his grin could get any bigger, but Ray's customary complaint somehow squeezed another millimetre into it. He'd begun every morning on the quest and ended every night with those exact words, but somehow Fraser had never tired of hearing them.

From the look of the house, Ray must have arrived shortly after his own departure that morning. The kitchen was a mess, his jacket was abandoned on the couch and his bags were dumped inside the door, contents spilling haphazardly onto the floor. Fraser pretended that he wasn't thrilled to see that Ray had brought three large holdalls with him. Surely that meant he would be staying for a little while?

Ray had been up to stay with him four times since their quest had ended, but this was the first time that he had come unannounced. Fraser had only made it down to Chicago once in the same amount of time, a fact that made him feel guilty, but that Ray didn't seem at all put out about.

The kitchen table was laid already with mismatched cutlery and plates. A lit candle stood on a saucer between the place settings, and off to the side a small pile of brightly wrapped packages and envelopes awaited his attention.

"I can't believe you did this," Fraser said, hanging up his coat and feeling ridiculously touched by Ray's kindness.

"They're not all from me, Fraser. Don't get excited," Ray said as he stirred something that made Fraser's stomach growl. His words were dismissive, but he looked pleased all the same.

"But you being here and the food and the lights…"

Ray looked up and his face creased into a cheeky grin. "They look kinda good there, don't they?" he asked.

"Yes indeed. I can't imagine why I didn't notice something like that was missing from my decorating scheme," Fraser mused seriously, looking at the quirky, kitsch illumination.

"You're a funny man, Fraser. That never changes," Ray told him, punctuating his words with flourishes of his dripping spoon. He tasted what was left on it, nodded and put it down. "Why don't you go and get washed up? It's almost ready."

"Alright," Fraser smiled, and walked towards his bedroom only to be halted in his steps almost immediately by a hand on his chest. He looked at Ray questioningly. His friend's face was suddenly intense and undecided.

"Ray?" Fraser asked gently.

Ray looked at him steadily for a second more, then leaned in and kissed him. Softly. Slowly. So sweetly, Fraser had to swallow down a groan of delight. Ray was taking his time, slipping his hand behind Fraser's neck, coaxing his lips apart and touching delicately at his tongue. Instantly, Fraser could feel himself drifting down into that warm, unnamed place inside that only Ray's touch seemed give him.

"Happy Birthday, Benton," Ray murmured as he pulled back and stepped out of Fraser's way.

Fraser didn't know what to say. "Thank you," sounded pathetic. "I hope so," sounded worse, and "It is now," sounded as if he were expecting more. And while more would certainly be up there on his wish-list, it had never been like that between them.

There were no promises, no rules and no pattern to their friendship. Sometimes Ray slept in Fraser's bed when he came to stay; sometimes he slept on the couch. Sometimes Ray kissed him goodbye; sometimes he got a handshake and a hug. Fraser was too proud to ask what it all meant and too afraid to ask for more in case it was all withdrawn instead. He had learned to accept what he was given; even be thankful for it. As long as Ray kept coming, he told himself, he was content.

Ray had never kissed him like that so early in a visit though. Usually they danced around each other for a day or so, avoiding sensitive subjects like where to store Ray's clothes - in Fraser's room meant they would be sleeping together, stored in the corner, still in the bag, meant the couch.

Fraser always waited for Ray's lead before he assumed anything. Once permission was given, all bets were off and he felt free to be as demanding and forward as he pleased, but always the first indication had to be Ray's - even if it were just an obvious glance or that smug half-smile that got Fraser's blood pumping like nothing else he'd ever known.

Thankfully Ray moved back into the little kitchen area and starting to do something complex with oven mitts and a spatula, which spared Fraser the task of having to find a suitable response.

His bedroom seemed cold after the warmth of the main room. Fraser wasn't sure if that was because of the stove and the cooking or Ray's presence. He clicked on the bathroom light and felt a stupid smile slide across his face in response to the toothbrush next to his own and the glob of blue that had collected on the basin under the open tube of hair gel.

God, it was good to see Ray again.

He washed his hands and face quickly, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and tried to ignore the effect Ray's unexpected kiss had had on him. It had been seven long weeks since he had flown home from his last visit and Fraser's body seemed to want to make up for every single second he'd been without him.

As he checked his hair in the mirror, Fraser noticed Ray's duffel at the end of his bed. That was a good sign that things were going to go his way. Four bags - he'd never brought that many before. And one of them at the end of his bed - a very good sign. And something else; Ray's electronic alarm clock perched on the table beside the bed, across from his own simple metal alarm. That was new. Ray had never brought his clock with him before. Maybe he had an early flight to catch?

Ray was dishing food onto the plates as Fraser rejoined him. "This looks wonderful," he declared, sitting down while Ray continued to pile his plate high. And it was. Ray had even cooked vegetables, which Fraser had been informed early in their working relationship, were actually against Ray's religious beliefs. ("If God had intended us to eat broccoli, Fraser, he'd have made it less slimy and more like Oreos.")

"So it should. I had to sell a kidney for these steaks in McHale. Have these people never heard of beef?"

"McHale?" That was completely the wrong direction. "Where did you fly into?"

"Didn't. I drove." A smug little smile came with that revelation.

"So that's your…?"

"Tank? Yeah, it's mine. I didn't think the GTO would appreciate the weather up here. My Dad would have killed me if I'd brought it up. So I sold it."

"You _ sold_ your car?"

"Yeah. S'okay though," Ray replied, finally sitting down behind his own pile of food. "Sold it to a connoisseur. Someone who appreciates classics. Yeah, Vecchio'll look after it."

"Vecchio? _Ray Vecchio?"_

"Knew you'd like that bit," Ray grinned, stabbing at his dinner hungrily. He took a huge forkful of potato and shovelled it in. "Stella liked it too," he smirked insincerely around his mouthful. "But the goat, she's a city girl. I love her, but she couldn't cut it up here."

This made no sense. Ray had sold his beloved car to buy something more practical for a road trip up to Canada? What could he possibly be…?

"That one's from the style-pig and Stella," Ray said, interrupting Fraser's confused thoughts, and indicating a tastefully wrapped parcel with his knife.

Fraser took a bite of his steak - which was excellent - and reached for the parcel. Inside, after careful unwrapping, he found a humorous birthday card involving a deer, and a cashmere scarf in the exact red of his dress uniform - the one that had languished in the back of his closet since he'd arrived here.

"Smart," Ray said admiringly, reaching over to rub the softness of the wool. "I might have to borrow that." He let Fraser take another few bites of his food, which were wasted really, as he couldn't taste a thing, so powerfully moved was he by the simple sight of Ray's fingers stroking over the scarlet material. It was ridiculous. Being a year older seemed to have run amuck with his hormones.

Fraser forced himself to concentrate on his dinner and Ray accepted his fulsome compliments on the meal with good grace, and then handed him another package.

"This one's from Frannie and the baby."

And so their meal continued. Fraser received a book on DNA analysis from Elaine, an "I heart Chicago" t-shirt from Francesca and a bottle of something he'd never drink from Lieutenant Walsh. Ray said he might have to borrow that too.

When his cards were lined up beside those of Buck Frobisher, his sister and his detachment on the mantle, and his gifts were piled up beside him on the table, Fraser could hardly recognise his quiet little home. All the exotic items that Ray had brought with him gave a festive appearance, although Christmas was still three weeks away.

Dief was wrestling with the ribbons from Francesca's wrapping, scattering pieces of coloured paper to the four corners of the room. Everywhere Fraser looked was touched with Ray's presence; his culinary excesses on the kitchen counter, his boots under the rocking chair, his smile on the opposite side of the table. Such a domestic scene was beyond Fraser's experience. And it obviously showed.

"You okay over there, buddy?" Ray asked him, tilting his head so the flame of the candle glowed on the silver streaks in his hair, making them gold.

"I'm fine, thank you, Ray."

Ray smiled in a way that let Fraser know that he saw right through him, but he didn't call him on it, and cleared away their plates, forcing Fraser to remain seated.

"So, forty, huh? That's pretty serious," Ray began, dropping the donut box (missing _three_ donuts, Fraser noticed) onto the table in front of him and re-filling his glass with milk.

"Careful there, Ray. I seem to recall that in a scant four months you too will reach this milestone on life's highway, " Fraser said, and eased a chocolate sprinkle donut out of its sticky box.

"Yeah, yeah." Ray rolled his eyes. "So you're not… like… freaking out or anything?"

"It's just a number, Ray. And they say life begins at forty."

"Yeah, they do. Do you believe that?"

Fraser glanced at Ray who seemed strangely intent on his answer. "Well I understand that people often reflect on their lives at this age and sometimes make adjustments in areas they feel they haven't succeeded in."

"Or they have a mid-life crisis," Ray pointed out.

"Or that, yes."

"So you gonna go out, buy a Porsche and start picking up eighteen year olds in bars?"

Fraser smiled. "I don't think many opportunities for that sort of thing exist in Fort Murray. The garage sells only Toyota, there's one bar, and the eighteen-year-old population consists of Duncan Roberts, Isabelle Challon - who is secretly engaged to Duncan Roberts, and Sophie Anderson's cat. And besides, I'm pretty happy as I am, on the whole."

"'Kay, so…the cat?"

"Tabby, blind and incontinent. Not my type."

"Really? Well that's interesting."

"Is it? Why?" asked Fraser, realising he was probably feeding Ray a straight line so he could deliver his latest insult, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd missed this easy banter. And Ray was here - in his house - warm and untidy and alive and with kisses and four bags. Fraser could endure any amount of teasing if it meant he'd stay for a little longer.

Every time Ray left it took Fraser a little longer to recover, a little longer to remind himself that this is what he'd chosen and climb back inside his well-ordered, sterile life.

"Well, I haven't given you my present yet," Ray began, and that nervous intensity was back, apparent in his twitching fingers and shifting gait. "And I have to tell you that I had a hard time finding something for the man who has everything he needs." Ray gestured to the room at large, but managed to somehow convey that he meant Fraser's lifestyle - Canada, the RCMP, snow, pemmican and a certain distance from everyone else.

"You shouldn't have got me anything, Ray. Just your company and this wonderful meal are enough to have made this birthday an extremely memorable one."

"Memorable. Yeah." Ray shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "Well you might think again when you find out what I've got you. Come sit on the couch and I'll get it."

Fraser felt an irrational sense of trepidation as he brought the last of his donut and his glass to the couch in front of the stove and sat down. And it was not at all allayed by Ray dragging two of his three holdalls round to the other side of the couch and sitting down beside him.

"So I tried to think. Maybe Benton Fraser has everything he needs. But what does Benton Fraser _want_?"

Fraser thought about quoting a Chinese proverb at Ray on the perils of wanting, but he was infected by Ray's rising nervousness and held his tongue. It appeared he had rehearsed this little speech before from his delivery. Fraser tried not to dwell on what that might mean.

"And that got me thinking some more. What do guys like us want? Now I only have myself to base this on, but what I want is a nice meal made for me once in a while." Ray took the last piece of donut from Fraser's unresisting fingers and popped it into Fraser's mouth, pausing to wipe any stray crumbs away with the rough pad of his thumb.

Fraser felt the brief second of connection long after it was removed - almost like a burn. His mouth was so dry he could barely swallow the pastry as he struggled with his body's renewed enthusiasm for Ray's proximity. The urge to grab Ray's twitchy, constantly moving body, hold him down and kiss him until he was finally still was overwhelming.

But Ray wasn't finished. "I want a little music, every now and again. You know, to dance to, or whatever."

Ray rummaged behind the arm of the couch and came back with a stack of CDs. He got up and walked to Fraser's bookshelves, which, Fraser realised, had been rearranged to accommodate a very compact CD player and speakers. Ray fiddled with this for a while and seemed delighted when the strains of Ella Fitzgerald floated softly into the room, smooth and familiar.

Fraser thought for one heart-stopping moment that Ray was going to take his hand and dance with him. He didn't know if he were more horrified at his own ineptitude or thrilled at the thought of being held by Ray Kowalski while he danced with all the skill and grace Fraser knew he possessed.

But Ray simply danced himself back to the couch, his steps confident and assured in marked contrast to his other behaviour this evening. He sat down again and returned to his bag.

"I want to be able to kick-back if I feel like it. Relax. Chill," Ray continued. He still sounded nervous but determined as he handed Fraser a stack of videotapes, movies, sports, some newly bought and some recorded at home with Ray's loose, unformed scrawl across the slipcases.

Fraser wondered if now was a good time to tell Ray that he didn't own a video recorder, but when he glanced across, he discovered that he did indeed have one after all. Then Ray surprised him even further by placing printed leaflets promoting several local bonspiel and a dog sledding event on top of the cassettes.

"Curling?" Fraser asked.

"I've heard that that's what you call a sport up here. I'm willing to be open minded."

"That's… commendable, Ray," Fraser responded, wondering when he had totally lost control of this conversation and deciding it was probably the second he had seen the lights in the window.

"So, good food, music, sport, movies. The Lieu has taken care of an occasional drink. What else?" Ray grinned edgily, as if this were some kind of bizarre quiz.

Fraser blinked at Ray stupidly.

"That's right, buddy. Sex!"

Fraser had no idea how Ray had construed "sex" from his own vacant expression, but fumbled to put down the videos as Ray forced a bottle of lubricant and a copy of the gay Karma Sutra into his hands. Several of the pages contained bookmarks, Fraser noticed, feeling his ears get hot.

He leaned forward a little, hoping that Ray would use this as an excuse to kiss him again, but instead he was sitting back in the corner of the couch, smiling gently and watching Fraser with a clear, unfathomable gaze.

"That's me, Fraser. Pretty low maintenance, huh? I mean I know it's not everybody's idea of a life, but…" he trailed off into silence, a little frown above his eyes.

"It sounds nice, Ray," Fraser murmured.

"Yeah. Pretty simple list, but that's what it boils down to. That and one last thing."

"Which is?"

Ray hesitated, his fingers tapping against each other in agitation. He looked to the fire, to the window and then back to Fraser. "Someone to share it with," he said finally.

Fraser had to clear his throat again. Perhaps he was coming down with something. "Someone…"

"You."

To give himself a moment, Fraser looked around the room again. It was as if he had suddenly opened his eyes for the first time. There was a coffee maker in the carnage that was his kitchen. The CD player that had displaced his carefully alphabetised books. The ridiculous lights, which he'd always secretly detested, but that he found to be a thing that fitted-in here. The irritating red blink of the alarm clock. The smear of gel in the bathroom.

It looked…

It looked like a home, with all the little annoyances that went with it; disorder, lack of space, noise. Warmth, companionship, love.

The place where Fraser lived looked like a home for the first time since he was a child.

"The… er… the silence thing. That's kinda scary there, Frase," Ray said quietly.

Fraser turned back to find Ray craning his neck, trying to see his face.

Once again, Ray saved Fraser the struggle to find a reply. "See, I kinda worked out pretty early on that you didn't really need me. You know, you're pretty self-contained, 'specially up here. But you let me stick around. So I wondered if maybe you might just… you know… want me a little bit. Maybe you might want me and not be able to… you know… ask."

Fraser was mesmerised by Ray's movements, the way his hands mimicked the expression in his voice, the way his head bobbed as he spoke, keeping time with his words, the way he shifted in his seat, leaning back, then crouching forward to emphasise a point.

"So I kept coming back and you always seemed happy to see me and you never said no when I offered… you know… to…" More gesticulation, a flapping gesture between the two of them that Fraser interpreted as meaning intimacy.

"But still you never asked and I just… I just wasn't sure enough, Fraser. You never said, 'stay' or, 'don't go', and I couldn't work out if it was something you'd take if it was offered or if it was something you actually… wanted."

Ray finally seemed to run out of energy. He flopped back onto the couch and sat perfectly still, staring at the quiet fire in the stove.

Fraser watched the ruddy light play over his face now it was passive at last. The lines around Ray's eyes had deepened since they'd first met, his hair, although still spiky and highlighted was receding slightly, his ever-present stubble covered a jaw that had lost some of its definition. Fraser knew that if Ray looked at him, he would be able to catalogue a similar list of time's modifications.

It was strange to see Ray unmoving. Even on the nights that he had slept beside him, Fraser had only glimpsed moments of this kind of stillness. Ray was a creature made for motion. Fraser had hardly ever seen a photograph of Ray that did him justice; a single image could never capture the grace or energy of the man.

"This is the part where you say something, Fraser," Ray said so quietly that a sudden snap from the fire almost drowned him out.

Carefully, Fraser put down the book and the bottle. "I want…"

Ray's eyes flickered toward him, then away again, almost as if he were afraid to look.

"I want to understand what this is, Ray. Are you saying…?" Fraser tugged on his ear and licked his bottom lip, stalling for time, but Ray said nothing - no help from that quarter this time.

"So my birthday present… is… you?"

Ray hesitated, then nodded once, his whole body dipping into the motion in that strange way he had. He still wouldn't meet Fraser's eyes. "I kept the receipt, you know… in case you wanted to change it," he added without a trace of humour.

Fraser closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What I want is for Diefenbaker to excuse us for the next few hours, and to take you to bed and _show_ you what I want."

Ray's smile was relieved and encouraging, but Fraser wasn't finished.

"But what I _need_ is for you to still be there tomorrow morning, and the morning after, and all the week after that, and the following month, and next year and the next and the next."

His eyes wide and bright, Ray's smile seemed to defy the confines of his face. Fraser leaned in until his lips were just a few millimetres from Ray's, then he paused, breathing the same air, feeling the warmth there.

"Stay, Ray. Don't go," he murmured, feeling the words bounce back onto his own skin.

"'Kay," Ray managed before Fraser closed the gap and kissed him.

 

"Fraser, it's freezing out there," Ray chattered as he jumped back under the blankets and applied his icy skin to the warmest parts of Fraser.

"I have tried to explain to him that he's a wolf and is climate adapted for this environment. He's an embarrassment to his species. You really shouldn't baby him," Fraser said without any real disapproval. Despite Ray's attempts to burrow inside his skin in an effort to warm up, he was much too comfortable to "bitch" as Ray would have said. He didn't think he could move even if he needed to.

Ray had taken the whole 'being the birthday present' thing very seriously and made sure that Fraser had had a full demonstration of all that entailed. He'd fallen into a deep, sweetly exhausted sleep until his wolf had decided to catalogue his woes, right outside his… their window.

"He was miserable out there. He would've howled all night. He's pissed with you, by the way. I had to give him the last donut before he'd stop looking at me like he'd been kicked or something."

Fraser made a grunting, "don't care" noise and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

"It's snowing again," Ray informed him, not taking the hint.

"Good God! Whatever next?" Fraser muttered.

"Smartass," Ray snorted and wrapped a freezing hand around Fraser's dick.

Fraser groaned, but it proved his point - he really couldn't move, not even when seriously provoked.

"It's still your birthday for…" Ray wriggled behind him, letting a blast of cool air under the blankets. "… eleven minutes, Frase. Want to make the most of it?"

He ran his cold fingers up the underside of Fraser's cock in a gentle caress and traced circles around the tip with an index finger.

Fraser felt the familiar warmth flare low in his belly as his cock twitched and swelled in response. "You're going to kill me, you know," he complained, knowing Ray would be able to hear the happiness in his voice.

"No way, Benton. Your next forty years are mine, buddy. I need to keep you in peak physical condition."

"Forty years? What happens then?" Fraser laughed. "Are you going to run off and leave me for a seventy year old?"

"Well, if you're having trouble getting it up when you're forty, I imagine by the time you're eighty, I'll be getting pretty desper…oof!"

Fraser felt he needed to demonstrate that he was experiencing no such problem. He flipped Ray onto his stomach and pinned him there with hips and forearms. Feeling the subtle chill of Ray's skin, Fraser covered him with his body.

Ray craned his neck, looking for kisses and Fraser obliged, sliding up his back to deepen the touch of their mouths.

Fraser was gratified, and not a little proud, to find that he did, in fact, still have the energy to satisfy Ray. He might not be able to walk tomorrow, but tonight he had exactly what Ray needed.

His cock ground against Ray's lower back as he breathed in the subtle sweat and soap scent of his neck. He took the smooth skin there between his teeth, unable to resist the flavour of him.

Ray hummed and pushed back against Fraser's groin, teasing and demanding. Fraser growled quietly, biting him just a little harder. Ray stilled and arched his neck to rub the back of his head against Fraser's, then very deliberately lifted his hips, stretching his spine so his ass rubbed all the way up Fraser's length.

Fraser growled again and bit deeper still, feeling a shudder run through the body beneath him. But Ray didn't pause this time. Instead he got his knees under him and pushed up, spreading himself for Fraser. Ray was ready for him, still relaxed and open from earlier, and as Fraser angled himself, lifting onto his hands, he slipped all the way in easily with three long, slow thrusts.

Fraser stilled, and reached up to kiss the abused skin on Ray's neck, licking the deeper coloured marks that were visible even in the darkness of the room.

Ray flexed, pulling himself off Fraser, then eased back, and again, and again in a flowing movement that felt utterly perfect to Fraser.

"Impatient," Fraser muttered against his back.

"Born early, can't wait for anything, you know that," Ray hissed keeping up his gentle rocking.

"Waited long enough to tell me how you felt," Fraser said quietly, meeting Ray's next push with one of his own.

Ray sighed, but it sounded like pleasure, not exasperation. "I figured if you were gonna have a mid-life crisis… oh, yeah, right there… that I… ahh… better be here to… ughhhh… have mine with you…yeah, that's it… that's…fuck, yeah…"

The conversation became rather less coherent after that.

Fraser took up Ray's pace, rocking into him over and over, even when Ray faltered. And when his own release was close and Ray's grunts had become almost continuous whines, he reached round his pale hips, took his cock in a slick palm and stripped it with the hard, sharp strokes Ray liked best until he shuddered and came, pushing Fraser's own self-control beyond endurance. He cried out and pushed inside Ray as deeply as he could, holding there, clutching Ray to his chest until they both collapsed down onto the mattress.

When Fraser's ears stopped ringing, he thought that maybe now Ray would sleep. Perversely, of course, he now felt wide-awake. He curled himself more closely around his lover, getting comfortable. "Nice mid-life crisis, Ray," he breathed into the thatch of blonde spikes he had his nose buried in.

Ray grumbled something, it might have been, 'sure' or it might have been, 'shhh'.

Fraser ignored him. "And a most inspired birthday gift. It's exactly what I wanted." He kissed Ray's sweaty, sleepy head.

Ray lifted a flushed, tired face from its nest of pillows with a weary but triumphant grin. "Pretty cool, huh?" He slung a heavy arm over Fraser's waist, pulled him closer and lay back down, eyes closed.

"Just wait 'til you see what I got you for Christmas."

Fin


End file.
